Passing Years
by SandraK
Summary: The original Endgame timeline, before the Admiral took it upon herself to change the course of history. WARNING: This is DARK. Has many terrible things murder, starvation, and yes, even ChakotaySeven. J, K JK, EMH, C, 7
1. Default Chapter

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I started this after seeing Voyager's half-assed series finale.  I don't believe it was simply the death of Saint Seven that convinced Janeway to eradicate an entire future.  This story is rather dark and generally unhappy.  The portrayals of Chakotay and especially Seven reflect my very negative impression of them post-Endgame, so be warned if you like the characters.

And if you're disgusted with the age difference between Janeway and Kim, I hope you're just as disgusted with the greater age difference between Chakotay and Seven.  If not, I do not want to know.

And just a final note--  If you've read _The Starfleet Officer,_ let me assure you that I don't _only _write dark stories.  It's just that all my happy stories were written a while ago and thus are embarassingly horrendous and will never be seen here.  Thank you.  J

PASSING YEARS  
  
  
  
THE EIGHTH YEAR OF VOYAGER'S JOURNEY

You're making the biggest mistake of your life, Chakotay.   That's what she'd tell him if she were a neutral party.   However, probably as far as Chakotay was concerned, she was a lonely woman stewing in her own jealousy.   
  


Janeway almost smiled. He had no idea how far he was from the truth.   
  
She performed the rites on the holodeck, in a simulation of Kessik IV. As she recited her litany, she noticed Chakotay's careful scrutiny. He seemed to be measuring her reaction, as though he were hoping to see some signs of anger or jealousy in her eyes.   
  
She gave him no such pleasure.   
  
Seven was given away by Harry Kim. The Doctor stood impassively in the crowd, his face a mask of indifference. Kathryn knew that their friendship had crumpled after the commencement of Seven's relationship with Chakotay. The former drone had rejected the Doctor with undue coldness, and over the course of nine months, his love for her had soured . At least, that was the way it seemed to Janeway. Or so she hoped, for his sake.   
  
"I do."   
  
"Do you have the ring?" Janeway asked, turning to Naomi Wildman, not so little now.   
  
The girl, seven years old in human terms, but looking nearly fifteen now, happily proffered the cushion with the ring.   Janeway watched with neutrality as Chakotay and Seven slid their rings on to their partner's fingers.   
  
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."   
  
Chakotay unconsciously looked away from Seven to look at Janeway.   
  
"You may now kiss the bride."   
  
Chakotay's dark eyes caught Janeway's. For a second, something flashed in his, something indefinable. Janeway met his gaze with a practiced, icy one of her own, and pointedly darted her gaze towards his wife. Seven's smile was rapidly fading.   
  
The brief moment passed, and he ducked in and planted a firm kiss on Seven's lips. They stood conjoined for a moment, before pulling apart to face the crowd.   
  
Seven's face glowed with triumph and happiness. Chakotay smiled, too. Then, hand in hand, they strolled down the aisle between cheering crewmen to the door of the holodeck. Seven threw a brief glance over her shoulder at Janeway before they disappeared through the arch.   
  
Janeway tapped her comm badge to let the mess hall know the newlyweds were ready for their reception. Then she paused on the altar, surveying the room, waiting as her crew shuffled out.   
  
She was surprised when Harry Kim was the last to linger, staring at her from the doorway with an expression she couldn't read. Carefully ignoring it, she glanced up at the ceiling and called, "Computer, end program."   
  
The scene faded around her, leaving Kathryn standing alone amidst the cold metal of the holodeck.   
  
"Ready for some food, Captain?" Harry asked as she drew towards him.   
  
Janeway offered him a smile she didn't quite mean. She hoped to God that wasn't pity in his eyes, because that was the last thing she wanted, or needed.   
  
"Harry, I see no need of standing to protocol at a time like this." She smiled warmly at him. "Just for a day, call me 'Kathryn.'"   
  
"Well, Kathryn, I'd be pleased to escort you to the party, if you'd allow me."   
  
Jesus, she didn't want his fucking pity.   
  
"It'd be my pleasure," she replied.   
  
She looped her arm through his, and they disappeared down the corridor.   
  
* * *   
  
"I'm involved with Seven of Nine."   
  
Chakotay said it as gently as he could, hoping to spare her feelings.   
  
He scrutinized her intently, waiting for some sort of reaction to flutter to her face.   
  
She sat there a moment, her expression intangible. Then, finally, she said, "That's it? That's all you had to tell me?"   
  
"What?"   
  
She rose from the couch, straightened her shirt.   
  
"You called me to your quarters like this was a life and death situation, Chakotay. This doesn't exactly qualify as a startling revelation."   
  
"You already knew?" he demanded incredulously.   
  
She smiled wryly. "I'm not blind. I know what's happening on my ship." She started for the door.   
  
"Why didn't you say anything?"   
  
She stopped, then glanced back at him. "You're not endangering yourselves, or the ship. It wasn't my concern as a captain. You obviously didn't feel that I, as your friend, should be privy to details of your personal life, so I saw no need to bring it up."   
  
He was silent a moment. This wasn't the reaction he had expected.   
  
She pressed on, "What did you expect, Chakotay? That I would be hurt? Jealous? Disgusted?"   
  
"Disgusted?" This one surprised him.   
  
_Disgusted at the prospect of you running off with an emotionally underdeveloped woman young enough to be your daughter simply for the gratification of your middle-aged ego?   
  
Disgusted, perhaps, that you didn't trust your supposed best friend with this little bit of information?   
  
Disgusted that you talk to me as though I harbor romantic feelings for you-- despite rejecting you repeatedly over the course of six years on the flimsy excuse of protocol?   
  
Disgusted that you've let Seven manipulate you into a weapon against me?_   
  
At least that's what she should have said. That's what she wished she'd said.   
  
She'd covered up her slip after he echoed, 'Disgusted?' She'd laughed it off, congratulated him on a fine catch, played the mother role in being happy Seven had found a good lover, and left. His ego had filled in the rest. She could see what he thought: that she'd grown cold to him because of jealousy, because he'd found a woman she couldn't possibly compete with.   
  
But Chakotay was the one to pity.   
  
She saw it, in Seven's eyes, when they were together near Janeway. She saw the way Seven suddenly became affectionate to him when she noticed Janeway. The way she suddenly would grab Chakotay, cling on to him until Janeway passed. Whether she wanted to prove to Janeway that she was as human as her, or if she simply wanted to top Janeway in some aspect of their unspoken rivalry, Kathryn couldn't say. All Kathryn knew was that she'd seen Seven in love, and she didn't love Chakotay.   
  
Chakotay...   
  
Kathryn had seen it coming as soon as he dyed his hair. One day, it was flecked with gray. The next, it was black as midnight. He started sleeping around. He started talking back. He was trying to reclaim his masculinity by marrying a woman half his age and much better looking.   
  
That's fine. Masculine or no, Kathryn didn't care for him much either way... at least, not in the way he'd like to think.   
  
So she wasn't sad at the wedding reception. And she hated that Harry Kim thought she was. She would be happy for Chakotay, under other circumstances.   
  
But Seven...   
  
She remembered Seven's glance, thrown over her shoulder as she marched out of the holodeck with her new husband. Triumphant, gloating. In one moment, she had confirmed what Kathryn had suspected since this debacle of a relationship had begun.   
  
Seven was trying to use Chakotay to hurt her.   
  
Janeway and Seven cared about each other, beyond words, beyond family. They loved each other.   
  
But they didn't like each other.   
  
Janeway had used Seven as a justification for stranding the ship. For all setbacks she experienced, she could balance a positive investment into Seven's development. She'd focused her passion on Seven, her energy. Everything she couldn't devote to a lover or towards her own happiness was given to the Borg drone.   
  
An independent woman had developed from that drone. Between them, there was passion, there was feeling, and there was intense enmity.   
  
Janeway would slap Seven into place when she overstepped her bounds. Seven would do the same the minute Janeway overstepped hers. They always had periods of dislike, followed by a gradual reassertion of their affection.   
  
But though this was not the first time Seven had set out to hurt her, it was the first time she'd preyed on something so close to Janeway's core: her loneliness.   
  
At the reception, they all had a few drinks, laughed, made merry. She'd kissed Chakotay on the cheek, hugged Seven, and then walked off. The one time she'd glanced at Seven after that, the Borg seemed dismayed as she watched her husband, as though she'd realized for the first time what she'd committed herself to.  
  
And Janeway hated to admit it, but a part of her enjoyed the discomfiture on Seven of Nine's face   
  
Janeway left the reception, the captain's mask now a permanent feature. Chakotay, for a while, had been the one person who could see her as a human. Because he'd loved her, he'd forgiven her anything. It had been one of Kathryn's small comforts.   
  
Now Seven had taken that from her.   
  
Before Kathryn had even reached her quarters, she'd hardened her heart to Seven for good. That day, the former drone lost something worth much more than her temporary victory. 

  
  
* * *   
  


  
"Computer, activate the EMH."   
  
He fizzled to life in the darkened sickbay.   
  
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," he intoned, then his dark eyes slid over to meet Janeway's. "Ah, Captain. What can I do for you."   
  
Remarkable programming. She could hear the forced cheer in his voice.   
  
"I wanted to see how you were. You weren't at the wedding reception." She leaned back against a biobed, and crossed her arms across her chest.   
  
He looked away. "I had work to do." She could tell he was attempting to mask his emotions, but Janeway, as the master of the art, saw right through it.   
  
"I understand if you don't want to talk."   
  
"Talk?" he chortled. "What is there to talk about? It's a fine day for the crew of Voyager-- our seventh wedding. We'll soon have enough children to fill deck 5..."   
  
Kathryn stared at him pointedly. His words died on his lips. He stared at her in open dismay for a long moment, then said quietly, "I take it they're---"   
  
"Gone."   
  
"Ah, yes. The honeymoon. How delightful." He looked down at a control panel, as though searching for something to occupy him. He started tapping a few buttons with undue force. "Was there anything you needed? Or is this just a meeting of recently broken hearts?"   
  
"Contrary to popular opinion, Doctor, my heart's perfectly intact."   
  
He glanced up at her briefly. "Well, that's fine for you to say-- one of the few people who have mastered the art of callousness."   
  
She stared at him a second, then straightened up, suddenly cold. "This was a bad idea."   
  
She turned to leave, but he called out quickly, "Captain!"   
  
She stopped. His voice was soft when he said, "I'm sorry, Captain. I didn't mean to attack you." She turned back towards him. "I just..."   
  
He seemed to be having difficulty speaking, and she drew close and rested a hand on his shoulder.   
  
"You don't have to talk if you don't want to."   
  
"No. It's just that..." He looked up, an mixture of bewilderment and pain on his features. "It's just that so much of what I know about love is now wrong. I thought true love leads to happiness. To fulfillment. I guess somehow, I always expected to end up with her. I love her. I thought..." He stopped, and his face darkened. His voice was harsh as he said, "But I am just a hologram, after all. What do I know? What woman could love photons and force fields--"   
  
"Stop this," Janeway told him firmly, taking him by both shoulders. She leaned closer to him, and whispered, "Photons and force fields, flesh and blood... what's the difference?"   
  
He recognized his own words, and the pain in his eyes died down just a little.   
  
"But you've always said there's a difference. Haven't you? Maybe I'm the one who's been deluded..."   
  
Janeway almost laugh. "Doctor, you're talking to a woman who spent the good part of a year in love with a hologram."   
  
"But that's just my point, Captain. You shrugged him off like nothing. You saw him for a fantasy. This whole time I've been deluding myself, thinking I'm real, when I'm not real enough for her--"   
  
She cupped his cheek in her hand. "You were passed over, and you immediately turned to self doubt. That's human. No hologram was programmed to feel that."   
  
Her words gave him pause.   
  
Finally, he spoke, "As a human, what should... You-- what do you do?"   
  
Her hands dropped to her sides.   
  
"What you'll do, eventually. I move on."   
  
"Move on." He repeated the words dully. She couldn't read his tone.   
  
"Move on. After all," she tried to sound quirky, "there are plenty of fish in the sea."   
  
  


THE TENTH YEAR OF VOYAGER'S JOURNEY 

  
  
When Seven lost Janeway, she lost the best thing she had going for her.   
  
After she married Chakotay, she faded into the crew. No longer was she unique, special. No longer was she Janeway's pet, or even her daughter figure. No special treatment, no special regard.   
  
The indifference hurt her..   
  
When she went to Janeway for advice, there was a new coldness there. Before, Janeway could be pressed for hours on end to discuss issues with Seven. Now, she was lucky to find a few minutes.   
  
"Seven, you don't need me to make up your mind for you," Janeway would tell her. "You have some life experience behind you now. Use that. Follow your own path."   
  
Perhaps Janeway expected Chakotay to cover where she no longer would. And he did. However, apart from spiritual matters, Seven found his advice inadequate.   
  
And then Chakotay started to look at other women again.   
  
She'd notice it when they were together. At first, his eye movements were subtle. He'd flicker a glance here, dart his eyes there. It took her a few days to realize that his eye movements only occurred when another female walked past.   
  
It wasn't that he was uncaring. No, he was kind to her. But he didn't love her. Once his infatuation wore past, problems emerged, and resentment.   
  
They argued. They argued over space in his quarters. He resented her need for order, she resented his constant use of space for frivolous items. They resented being bound to each other, and she began to hate him for all he had cost her by marrying her.   
  
When they lay in bed together, he'd maneuver his body in just the way that would leave her dangling at the edge. She began to retreat at nights to her regeneration alcove.   
  
But unfortunately, she was eventually denied even that comfort.   
  
"Since you're sleeping on a regular basis, Seven, I see no more need for a regeneration alcove," Janeway told her one day.   
  
"Regeneration is more efficient," Seven protested.   
  
"Perhaps," Janeway said. She waved the padd in her hand. "But I can't see the use of expending 0.9% of the ship's energy supply every year simply so you can have a more efficient means of sleep. You'll have to make do like the rest of the crew."   
  
Seven comforted herself many nights with the thought that Janeway was cruel to her because Seven had won. In the end, after all their confrontations, after 'butting heads' time and time again, Seven had married the only man on Voyager of whom Janeway seemed fond.   
  
It was small comfort, but she was quickly rather taken with the idea that Janeway treated her like this out of jealousy.   
  
In the middle of a tense confrontation with Chakotay, she mentioned this notion.   
  
"If you care about me, you'll discuss this with her. You'll make her see reason."   
  
He only laughed.   
  
"Seven, if she mistreats anyone, it's me. I can't help it if she's not coddling you anymore."   
  
As Chakotay's feelings towards her cooled, Seven reflected on what she had gained and lost in this marriage. She realized that Captain Janeway no longer accorded her privileges because she no longer saw her as vulnerable. Chakotay no longer cared about her because there was nothing novel for him to explore.   
  
In the midst of her desperation, she remembered how warmly everyone had treated Lieutenant Torres during her pregnancy.   
  
Seven of Nine tried her best to get pregnant. Despite the numerous Borg constraints hindering her reproductive system, she finally succeeded. The Doctor informed her she had a baby boy on the way.   
  
For the shortest of times, Chakotay looked at her warmly again, Janeway mothered her again, the crew treated her as someone special again. She felt herself surrounded by so much love, after being lonely for so long.   
  
And then she miscarried.   
  
Seven of Nine had never been known to have an outburst of emotion, but she was crazed when they found her in sickbay. Blood still staining her legs, she screamed at Chakotay for being an inadequate husband, at Janeway for being cruel. She accused the Doctor of sabotaging her efforts out of spite. They calmed her, soothed her. Within a week, she was back on duty, feeling the pitying stares of the crew burn through her.   
  
Everything kept sliding downhill. She felt alone, friendless, even more so now than ever before. All the strength she'd had just a few years earlier had worn down. She felt weak.   
  
The crew walked on eggshells around her after her miscarriage, even Chakotay. Janeway no longer treated her coldly, but she hardly went back to the old ways. She'd make time for Seven, but it seemed she did so out of some sense of guilt, or daresay, duty, rather than out of genuine concern.   
  
And every time Janeway smiled that smile of strained affection at her, or worse, pity, it was like someone was stabbing her with a knife.   
  
They had been married a year and a half when the day came.   
  
Before one away mission, Chakotay sat her down and began, gently as he could, hoping to spare her feelings, "Seven, listen. I... I just don't think this is working out."   
  
She was still reeling when she was on the surface of the planet.   
  
Divorce. He wanted a divorce.   
  
It made her upset, careless. When the Renari attacked, the away team dove behind a ridge to take cover.   
  
Seven of Nine did not run. She stood tall on top of the ridge. She didn't even try to move when a sharp red beam lanced towards her.   
  
Torres grabbed her as she fell, hauled her to the transporter site and to sickbay.   
  
Seven of Nine lay, dying, on the biobed. She felt Chakotay's arms around her, and looked up into his pain filled eyes. She couldn't hear anything being said. She felt no pain. The world was gently buzzing around her.   
  
The Doctor was circling around her, his features twisted with grief, working to save her life, though they both knew it was futile.   
  
In the distance, she could see a distraught Torres explaining something to Captain Janeway.   
  
Captain Janeway was standing there listening to Torres, staring ahead at Seven. She'd gone completely pale. Seven could see clear guilt in her eyes.   
  
_They still care about me_.   
  
And the world faded into oblivion.   
  
  


* * *   
  


  
Harry tapped in a few security override protocols, and let himself in.   
  
The quarters were completely dark. He took a step, and felt something break beneath his foot. He looked down quickly, and could make out dim shapes-- scattered flowers, a shattered vase, ripped paper of some kind, books, clothing, padds, all strewn about in a disorder that would suggest they were tossed.   
  
He slowly made his way into the quarters, scanning carefully. His eyes finally caught a dark blur in the corner.   
  
In the faint starlight, he could see her curled up, on the floor, her back against the wall. A bottle of alcohol, probably given to her by some dignitary or other, lay sideways on the floor next to her, its contents spilled in a faint mark across the rug.   
  
"Cap--" he reconsidered. "Kathryn."   
  
No answer.   
  
He drew in a bit closer, reached out a tentative hand to touch her cheek.   
  
For a moment, the skin burned against his touch, and then suddenly she reached out and clawed at him. He pulled back with a cry of surprise.   
  
She was glaring up at him, such hatred in her eyes. Her hair looked damp; it hung wild about a face twisted with anger.   
  
"What the hell are you doing in here?" she rasped. "I locked the fucking door for a reason!"   
  
"Captain, I--"   
  
"Get the fuck out!" She roared, and sprang to her feet before him with an agility and force that startled him. He took a surprised step back, but did not retreat further.   
  
"No."   
  
She laughed, bitterly, angrily. "You want to scrub plasma conduits for the next thirty years, _Ensign?_ Get. Out. Now."   
  
Harry took a deep breath. "I-- I came here as a friend."   
  
"Since when are we friends?" she hissed, her eyes glittering dangerously.   
  
Harry suddenly felt a twinge of doubt. What was he doing here? Had she ever really talked to him about these things?   
  
But who else was there?   
  
Tuvok was insane. Neelix was gone. Chakotay was dealing with his own grief. The Doctor had deactivated himself and refused to be reactivated except for medical emergencies. Torres had enough on her hands with Chakotay. Tom was commanding the ship now that the three most senior officers were all incapacitated...   
  
And Seven, now dead.   
  
He involuntarily felt tears prick his eyes.   
  
"I hurt too."   
  
Her expression seemed to soften, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. For a moment, her grief seemed to fade, and he thought she would embrace him. Then, just as suddenly, rage reappeared across her features.   
  
"I don't care," her voice was shaking, "_ I don't **fucking **care! _I spent the last ten years worrying about all of you and your goddamn problems, and now I just need quiet." She choked out, "Just--leave."   
  
"No."   
  
A scream tore from her throat, and she launched herself at him. Drunk, and weakened by sleep deprivation, her attack proved feeble. He caught her easily in his arms, and held her while she struggled like a madwoman against him. He began to shush her, quietly. As her struggles weakened and died, he held her head against his shoulder, and buried his own face in her hair.   
  
Then she began to cry.   
  
He froze for a moment. He'd never heard her cry. I some part of his mind, he hadn't even thought it possible.   
  
But she began to sob, harder and harder, and soon her whole frame was shaking within his grasp. He pulled her tighter to him, and felt his own tears streaming down his face.   
  
She started talking at some point, unintelligible between sobs and gasps for air. Sputtering words, phrases. As her tears died down, he made out, ".... didn't mean to... never could have seen that coming.... Oh God I was a monster...."   
  
A giant sob convulsed her whole frame, and he had to clench her suddenly to keep from dropping her. And then the words came out as one long moan, _I killed her...._   
  
"No, no you didn't," he whispered against her ear.   
  
"I did. I killed her... like I put a phaser to her head... I never meant to be so cruel... Chakotay said... the baby, she lost the baby... she called me cruel, she was right... how could I have acted that way… I knew her, how fragile she was..."   
  
"The Renari killed her," Kim hissed. "They're the ones who killed her. Not you."   
  
"...stood there, just stood there, let herself be shot because of me... Because I was so cruel..."   
  
"Please... don't blame yourself for this,"   
  
"What do you know!?" she jerked back abruptly, angrily, glaring at him as her entire body shook with self-loathing. Her voice was a whisper as she related, "I hated her... I hated her for trying to hurt me. I hated her because after all I'd done for her, she'd try to hurt me. She betrayed me and I cut her off. She hurt so much.... She was just a child, but I didn't care. I saw her pain and I didn't care. I couldn't bring myself to care. And now she's dead and I did it to her--"   
  
She collapsed in another fit of sobs, and Harry pulled her back to him.   
  
He held her long into the night, when she finally sagged against him, spent and exhausted. He comforted himself by thinking she'd be back to normal once she forgave herself.   
  
But then he thought of her guilt about stranding Voyager in the Delta Quadrant. She could atone for that. Maybe one day, she could even forgive herself.   
  
But she could never atone for this.   
  
He realized that she'd have no such chance with Seven of Nine. She would never atone, she would never forgive herself. How could she? Death could never be made right again.   
  



	2. Chapter Two

  
 Passing Years Cont'd  
  


  
Harry Kim had never been a pessimist. He'd always managed to look at the best in people. Seven's death and the chaos that followed, however, gave him a new view of people, namely those he cared about.   
  
Chakotay emerged a dignified widower. Much like Chakotay's father, Seven of Nine had become in death the person she never could have been in life. She would always be young to him, always beautiful. He forgot about the tormented Seven he'd planned to divorce. He forgot about his bitter disappointment once his infatuation had faded away. He could only remember that he'd been married to a beautiful woman whose life had been cruelly stripped away. In Seven's honor, he turned against those who had caused her pain-- the Doctor, with his thwarted affections, Torres, with her dislike, and Janeway, with her indifference.   
  
Torres and the Doctor only took his behavior for a few months. He could ignore them at social occasions, be curt with them in forced interactions. They understood his pain, and Torres cared deeply for her friend, enough to excuse it. After a while, though, Torres got 'sick of his shit' and took it upon herself to break his jaw. The Doctor took it upon himself to fix it very slowly. They confronted him about the way he'd been acting, and he reluctantly conceded that he'd been inappropriate. He blamed it on his grief, and genuinely believed his own words. Chakotay was never intentionally an asshole.   
  
Captain Janeway, however, didn't seem to notice anything he did.   
  
She spent long hours simply staring out the window, at nothing, her mind blank. Harry and the Doctor would come by and attempt to engage her in conversation, and sometimes Torres or Paris. But she was lifeless, flat.   
  
For many months, little could evoke emotion in her, whether it be an alien attack or a good joke. It seemed she'd detached herself from life, as though she were only going through the motions. She'd send others on away missions, she'd skip social occasions. She neglected her duties when possible simply to have more space for brooding.   
  
In just a few months, the entire hierarchy of Voyager had been flipped on its head.   
  
Thanks to Tuvok's degenerative disease, Janeway's detachment, and Chakotay's enthusiasm in his role as widower, Tom Paris found himself the unofficial Captain. Kim himself started taking the lead in many projects, and even began to actively lead away missions.   
  
Tom Paris oversaw the running of the ship, Harry Kim oversaw personnel issues. He made the suggestion to Captain Janeway that she place Mortimer Harren in Seven of Nine's old position. She agreed without much thought, and told him to go through with it.   
  
He also took over Chakotay's old role as the Captain's watchdog-- the role Chakotay had neglected even before Seven's death. He checked up on Janeway frequently, and made sure to drag Janeway along every time either of them was up for shore leave.   
  
One day, lying on a beach, Janeway broke out of her reverie and gazed at him. He met her eyes, tried to figure out what she was thinking.   
  
"How do you like the beach, Captain?"   
  
She looked out over the shore. "I've seen better."   
  
"Well, I'm sure you'll change your mind after a swim; the water's great. High tide's not in yet. Join me?"   
  
He held out a hand for her. She looked at it dispassionately a moment, then her eyes flickered back towards the swollen waves. Something began to change in her expression, and she grasped his hand.   
  
"I'd love to, Ensign." The expression on her face was strangely unsettling.   
  
She dropped her towel, and he watched her from behind as she took the lead, then practically ran towards the water.  She plunged into the water, and he followed. They swam out into deeper water, and the waves bobbed him up and down, below and above the surface of the water. He tried to grin at her over the white crests of water constantly spurting up between them, and she smiled half-heartedly back.   
  
_Not quite a grin, but I'll take it_, he thought, and contemplated kicking up some water at her.   
  
But she was swimming again, farther. He started to follow. She swam at least as fast as he did, if not faster, and he was confused when she didn't stop.   
  
He paused a moment to tread water and called out, "Captain! Where are you going?"   
  
The wind had picked up, whipping his short hair about his forehead. He could see her form, gliding farther and farther out towards the ocean. Suddenly, he had a bad feeling. Was she caught in the undercurrent? What was she doing? He started swimming after her, fast. Bobbing up and down on the water, pushed under occasionally by the strong waves.   
  
"Captain!"   
  
She either didn't hear, or didn't care. She kept going, farther.   
  
He gritted his teeth, put every last bit of effort he had into his arms and legs, and propelled forward into the water.   
  
_Damn it, I'm stronger than her, I'm younger, I can do this. I can catch her_.   
  
He pursued, pumping his arms and gasping occasionally for water until his limbs ached. After an intensive spurt, he was rewarded by the sight of her pale body much closer.   
  
"Captain, stop!" he yelled, almost out of breath.   
  
She seemed to panic when she heard him so close by, and suddenly shot forward, impossibly faster. Harry Kim put one last effort into it, and forced himself through the water. He didn't stop for air. His chest nearly exploded, but he didn't waste precious time reaching his head out of the water for a gasp of breath.   
  
And then his hand made contact with her ankle. The skin felt rubbery and slippery to his touch, but he clamped his fingers down. He felt her try to kick against his grip, but he pulled her back, slipped his arm around her trim waist, hugged her back to his chest.   
  
And she started fighting him.   
  
"Stop!" he screamed at her, and they both plunged under the murky water. Desperately, he kicked back up to the cool air of the surface, only for her to take them down again for his efforts.   
  
"STOP!" he gasped when they reached the top again, and he spun her around by the shoulders and shook her, firmly. He kept jerking her by the shoulders back and forth long after she stopped fighting him, and when he regained his senses, he saw her treading water right in front of him, his large hands clamped on thin shoulders. Her hair clung to her, and her blue eyes glowed against her ashen face.  
  
"What was that?" When she didn't answer, he shook her again. " What was it!?"   
  
"I'm sorry, I--" she stopped, surveying their surroundings dismally. "I don't know what came over me."   
  
"I'm not going to let you kill yourself, okay? Is that what you were trying to do? You're the captain, and you're--"   
  
"I don't need a lecture, Ensign. Let's just get back to shore," she interjected as she turned to float back. He grasped her arm and pulled her back around.   
  
"No, I'm not going to wait until shore. I'm going to tell you now."   
  
She looked at him in surprise. He didn't care.   
  
"You're the captain, and we need you. We all need you. Do you know what it would do to this ship if you died? My God, for that matter, do you know what you're doing to the ship now? We need a leader, and if you could get your mind off of someone other than yourself for a moment, you'd see what you're doing to the crew!"   
  
She stared at him. "Wh-what? What's happening with the crew?"   
  
"Do you even see them? They're lost, they're confused. Chakotay's playing the martyr, you're playing the depressant, Tuvok's insane... they need someone to guide them. They're scared." A beat passed. "And I'm scared. Tom and I can't do this alone. Not forever."   
  
She looked down in dismay.   
  
"You're right," she said quietly. "You're right, Harry, and I know it. I-- we'll get back to Voyager, and things will be different. I promise. I'll make it right again."   
  
Something had seemed to clear in her voice, her face. Harry released her.   
  
She scrutinized him for a moment, her blue eyes intense, searching. After a beat, she said, "Harry, I'm getting tired. What do you say we swim back to shore?"   
  
He conceded with a nod. His arms felt pretty damn tired by now. "Are you sure you can make it?"   
  
She smiled. "There's life in these old limbs yet."   
  
He nodded carefully, and only started swimming after she did. They had an easy pace this time, and it took them several minutes to reach the shore. By that time, they were both exhausted, and in no mood to resume their shore leave. They staggered over to their respective towels, and slumped to the ground.   
  
Harry felt his eyes close. When he opened them again, the sky was dark. He glanced quickly over at Captain Janeway, and saw her lying on the ground a few feet from him, fast asleep. He wondered if his words had made any impact on her.   
  
He'd done the trick, though. The next morning, Captain Janeway appeared again on the bridge with energy, as though the last three months had never occurred. When the bridge shift was over and done with, the relieved Tom Paris gave Harry a firm slap on the back and bought him a beer in Sandrine's.   
  
The next day, they could hear Janeway's muffled voice through the ready room door, and a beaten Chakotay came out and resumed his post. Neither officer neglected their duties after that.   
  
Life on Voyager was slowly returning to normal.   
  


THE ELEVENTH YEAR OF VOYAGER'S JOURNEY

  
  
"Naomi..."   
  
When she received no answer, Janeway glanced back over her shoulder to meet Samantha Wildman's concerned expression.   
  
"Please... talk to her..." Samantha had urged her just a few days earlier. Apparently, young Naomi had recently taken to hysterics during alien attacks. Samantha Wildman confided that she felt only Captain Janeway could coax the teenager's fears out into the open.   
  
Kathryn, feeling decidedly not up to the task, had delayed her chat with the younger Wildman. She'd delayed until a brief skirmish with an unknown ship sent Naomi hiding amidst the cargo containers, and Samantha Wildman had marched up to the bridge to demand Janeway's help again.   
  
Feeling more than a little ashamed for her delay, Janeway accompanied Samantha to the cargo bay. Old images flickered across her sight as she stepped in this place she'd avoided for so long-- a glowing regeneration alcove, Seven of Nine bathed in the florescent glow of a console...   
  
"Naomi!"   
  
Samantha hung back by the entrance to the cargo bay, and Janeway cautiously approached the nest of containers the teenager had taken shelter in.   
  
"Naomi..."   
  
She threw a helpless glance back at Ensign Wildman. The pain on the mother's face hardened her resolve.   
  
In a stern voice, "Crewman Wildman!" She stopped. Was this the place for authority?   
  
A quiet voice: "Yes, ma'am."   
  
And suddenly Janeway understood why Samantha wanted her here. Mother truly did know best.   
  
"Is there any logical reason why you're hiding in those cargo containers, crewman?"   
  
"No, ma'am."   
  
"Then why don't you come out."   
  
"I can't... captain."   
  
"And why is that?"   
  
She could barely hear Naomi say, "... I'm scared..."   
  
Janeway could hear Samantha Wildman slipping out of the cargo bay, and soon the doors closed, confirming her exit. With a renewed sense of privacy, Janeway approached the cargo containers, and she swore she could just make out the girl's dark shape crouched between two large storage cases.   
  
"Why is that, crewman?"   
  
"The aliens wanted to hurt us."   
  
"They're long gone, now."   
  
"I know."   
  
Kathryn paused a moment, contemplating this situation. The cargo bay. Why the cargo bay?   
  
Seven...   
  
"You've been on this ship all your life... Ten years now. Why are you suddenly afraid of alien attacks? Surely you know you're safe with us."   
  
Silence.   
  
"Is it Seven, Naomi? Is that why you're here?"   
  
"You couldn't protect Seven. She died. I don't want to die, too..."   
  
"What happened to Seven..." Janeway stopped. She stepped closer and lowered herself to her knees, bringing her within Naomi's line of sight. Then, "What happened to Seven was hard on us all. But... it's a risk you always take in life. Whether you're in space being attacked by aliens, or on land swimming in a pool, there's always risk involved."   
  
"But why did she have to die?"   
  
"I can't tell you that, Naomi. I'm sorry."   
  
"I just wish that things were the way they used to be... when Neelix was here, and Seven was okay and wasn't married to Chakotay... We'd play kadis-kot together... I know I'm a little old for that now..." there was a small laugh.   
  
A moment passed in silence.   
  
Janeway spoke, "Why don't you come out here, Naomi? Come out into the open."   
  
After a pause, she could hear a shuffling, and the girl slowly made her way out into the open, a few feet from Janeway. Not for the first time, Janeway marveled at how quickly the girl had grown. She looked at least seventeen. She had delicate features and a soft complexion complimented by her flowing, red hair. _She'll be striking when she's older_, Kathryn thought. Then, on a darker note, _I'd better keep Chakotay the hell away from her..._  
  
"You're looking older every day, Naomi. I'm going to have to make you an Ensign, soon," Janeway noted. The words were meant to be encouraging, but the girl suddenly seemed more depressed.   
  
"I couldn't ever be a Starfleet Officer. I'm just a... a coward."   
  
Janeway raised an eyebrow, and Naomi continued, "I see everyone around me... when aliens attack, people on the crew fire their weapons... they do their duties. I just want to hide."   
  
Janeway smiled. "Trust me, Naomi... it's completely normal."   
  
Naomi held her gaze. "You're never afraid."   
  
Janeway tilted her chin up a little. "That's not true at all. I get scared quite often. In fact, I'll tell you a little secret," she beckoned the girl closer with one finger, and Naomi inched forward. "When we first fought aliens in this quadrant, I was trembling, I was so scared. I'd never commanded in battle before, and suddenly we were fighting all by ourselves, left and right. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to keep it up for long."   
  
"But you didn't show it."   
  
"Of course I didn't show it! How could I command the confidence of a crew if they knew I had less battle experience than half of them?"   
  
Naomi looked very interested. "So... when did you stop being afraid?"   
  
Janeway smiled. "With practice. Every time we'd fight, I'd get better, and I'd feel a little less frightened the next battle. One day, I went to the bridge, and I wasn't scared anymore."   
  
Well, not exactly.   
  
No... the moment had really come when she was being chased, defenseless on an injured leg, down the corridor of her own ship by a Hirogen twice her size toting a phaser rifle.... a moment like a nightmare come to life... a moment so unreal that fear left her and never seemed to return... but for the point of her discussion with Naomi, circumstances were different.   
  
"And the day will come when you have enough experience that you're no longer afraid. You just have to trust me on this."   
  
Naomi smiled a little at that.   
  
A few minutes later, they emerged from the cargo bay. Samantha took one look at Naomi, and Janeway knew from the relief on her face that the problem had been solved. 

* * * 

  
  
Janeway stepped into Lieutenant Harry Kim's quarters, and was surprised to see him juggling Miral Paris on his lap.   
  
"Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting..."   
  
"It's all right. We could use a little distraction," Kim grinned with a nod towards the softly growling Klingon child. "Last minute baby-sitting job for Tom and B'Elanna. She was about to blow a fuse in engineering this morning."   
  
"So I heard," Janeway replied wryly. She lowered herself onto the couch next to Kim and Miral. Miral growled and bared her teeth to Janeway, and Kathryn quickly reciprocated the gesture, bringing forth a delighted peal of giggles from the child.   
  
"Cap'n Janeway's Klingon, too?" Miral asked Harry, turning to look at him inquisitively.   
  
"No... Captain Janeway's very human," Janeway answered for him, and leaned back as the girl crawled onto her lap. "And you are definitely your mother's daughter."   
  
"Cap'n growls like a Klingon," Miral shot back.   
  
"You better believe it, kiddo," Janeway replied, and pressed her forehead against Miral's for another growl.   
  
She pulled back as the girl giggled, and noticed Kim chuckling beside her.   
  
"So, did they approach you, or did you approach them?" she inquired.   
  
"I did. I figured I'd give Tom and B'Elanna a night off," Kim answered.   
  
"That was very thoughtful of you." Janeway smiled as Miral began to tug on her hair.   
  
Kim watched as the child wove her hand further into the captain's hair. "So... what was it you needed?"   
  
"Nothing that can't wait. It's Italian tonight in the mess hall... I was just going to ask you if you'd eaten."   
  
"Almost a pound of chili, unfortunately. Tomorrow okay for you?"   
  
"Tomorrow," Janeway confirmed. "It's for the best, I've got some reports..." She stood and tried to extricate herself from Miral's firm grip on her neck and hair, and found it useless. Young though she was, Miral already had some of her mother's formidable Klingon strength.   
  
"Cap'n stay here," Miral said firmly, urging Janeway to sit down with a firm pat on the shoulder.   
  
"Could you help me here?" Janeway asked Kim incredulously.   
  
Kim titled his head sideways, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips. "I'd pay attention to the little lady, Captain. She's not B'Elanna's daughter for nothing."   
  
"You're bordering on insubordination, Lieutenant," Janeway said warningly, but she couldn't help but smile as the child's weight pulled her back down next to him on the couch. She noticed a stack of padds on the floor in front of the couch. "So, what did I interrupt?"   
  
"We were just contemplating a game of Go Fish. Care to play?"   
  
"Play, cap'n, play!" Miral urged, hitting her on the shoulder.   
  
With Harry's eyes sparkling into hers, and Miral's hand firmly entrenched in her hair, Kathryn didn't have the power to say no. 

* * * 

  
  
"Do you ever feel like everything is right in the universe?" Kathryn asked sometime later.   
  
Miral had been safely tucked into Harry's bed, and the two officers were slumped side by side on his couch. Kathryn cradled a cup of coffee in her hands, and Harry had grabbed a beer from the replicator.   
  
"Pretty much every day," Harry replied honestly. "I have my doubts when we're in the middle of a crisis, or when we've lost someone, but overall, I'm pretty happy with they way things have turned out."   
  
Kathryn lolled her head over to face him. "Life's truly like that for you, isn't it?" She looked forward again and sipped her coffee, deep in thought. "I envy you."   
  
"I don't know. I miss some things, things I should notice. Maybe I'd do a better job if I were more critical."   
  
"But you're happy."   
  
"Yes. I guess you could say I am."   
  
"That's the important thing. Happiness. There's so little of it to go around."   
  
"I wouldn't say that," Harry replied softly. "I think it's always there, if you can just take it."   
  
"Only if you can still feel it."   
  
"You never lose your ability to feel happiness," Harry replied firmly. "Never."   
  
"You truly believe that?"   
  
"I know it."   
  
She was silent.   
  
"Back to your original question... a moment when everything seems right..." He looked at her. "Do you ever have that?"   
  
"At times. Times like now," she gestured around them. "But it all goes to hell. Everything goes to hell."   
  
"You think this will turn out badly?"   
  
"I'm counting the minutes."   
  
"I can't see how you live that way."   
  
"I don't see how I do, either. I just do."   
  
"I seem to remember you once being an optimist," Harry teased.   
  
"Years ago... you all needed an optimist..." She paused, and her tone was suddenly very nostalgic. "You were all so very young back then. _We_ were all so very young." Then, her voice harder, "I can at least be honest now. Our situation is perpetually horrendous."   
  
"I don't know," Harry observed, "The way I see it, we're all healthy, we haven't taken any real damage in weeks... We could all get home tomorrow."   
  
"Or we could all be blown to pieces."   
  
"Well, if you see it that way..."   
  
"Young, innocent Naomi Wildman seems of that school of thought."   
  
"Yeah, I heard about that. Is she okay?"   
  
"I think she will be now." Kathryn sighed. "Time will tell. We won't know until our next attack."   
  
"But things are fine for now," he pressed.   
  
"For now, but--"   
  
"Then why not celebrate that, and worry about the next time when it comes?"   
  
"I can't just do that..."   
  
"Why not?" He asked.   
  
"You don't understand," she said. "If you just... settle because things seem nice, they seem peaceful, you'll never be prepared."   
  
"And if you're always preparing, you'll never be happy. It's a choice."   
  
Kathryn looked at him suspiciously. "I thought we were talking about Naomi."   
  
"I thought we were, too." He held up his hands in mock defense. "I didn't start with the subtext."   
  
Kathryn rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It all gives me a headache, anyway. Let's just speak plainly."   
  
"All right." He paused, forming his words carefully. "I just think you should relax for a while. Enjoy the quiet times. A night after baby sitting. An afternoon with a good book. A beer, or in your case, a cup of coffee with a shipmate."   
  
Kathryn gazed at him for a second, then almost imperceptibly shook her head.   
  
"Disaster will always be there, Harry... Ticking closer and closer," Kathryn replied, holding up one... then two... then three fingers for emphasis.   
  
"Then just ignore the clock for a while," Harry rejoined, and reached over to push down her fingers with his own.   
  
It was meant as an offhand gesture, but his touch against hers, warm, intimate, suddenly sent tingles down both their spines.   
  
His touch... her touch... A world suddenly opened itself up before them. They sat there touching a full second, both too surprised to act.   
  
Janeway pulled her hand from his and pressed it tightly against the coffee mug. He recoiled slightly himself, and sat stiffly next to her on the couch. A sudden barrier had appeared between them.   
  
"Well, it truly is getting late," Janeway finally said.   
  
"Yeah. I'd better get some sleep."   
  
They rose to their feet.   
  
"You shouldn't have bought me coffee," Janeway said with a half-hearted smile. "I'll be up until dawn."   
  
Harry smiled awkwardly. "Well, at least if you miss morning shift tomorrow, you won't be there to catch me sleeping on duty."   
  
"Wishful thinking, Lieutenant."   
  
They stood there smiling at each other for a moment, and then the barrier slammed back into place.   
  
"Good night, Lieutenant," Janeway said.   
  
"Good night, Captain."   
  
She walked past him and out the door. Harry stood there for a moment, then a single thought pierced the veil over his mind:   
  
_What the hell just happened here?_

* * * 

  
  
Harry and Tom were still friends, but it wasn't like before.   
  
Tom Paris had matured ten years in the first ten weeks of Miral's life. Captain Proton was gone. In his place was Tom Paris-- husband, crewmate, and above all, father. When Tom spoke endlessly of Miral, Harry could think of nothing to say himself. A small rift had formed between them. Torres and Paris gravitated to the other parents on the ship-- Ken Dalby and Jenny Delaney... Samantha Wildman... Crewman Jerron and Sue Nicolleti...   
  
Harry found himself reaching out to the other person around him who seemed as adrift as he, and that person was Kathryn Janeway.   
  
Harry had helped pull Janeway back together after Seven's death, and she returned his kindness with a new openness, free of the previous condescension. They'd slowly been forging a friendship, perhaps making up for the relationships they'd lost-- she with Chakotay, he with Tom.   
  
She was less inclined to view him as a hopelessly naive ensign now, and he no longer saw in her an aloof paragon of maturity. As he considered it, they only had a fifteen year age difference, and now that he was into his thirties, it wasn't so large as to separate them.   
  
When they met for dinner, the night after their "moment" (as he'd privately dubbed it) in his quarters, things seemed back to normal. They discussed ship's business... Laughed over Chakotay's misstep the previous week regarding the Moteran Prelate's daughter... They compared Ayala's abilities as security chief to Tuvok's... They discussed friends come and gone.   
  
"I miss him, sometimes," Janeway said distantly.   
  
"Tuvok?"   
  
"Well, yes, Tuvok. Him, too."   
  
Then, "You mean, Chakotay?"   
  
She nodded. "It used to be so different. I don't know when the enmity grew stronger than the friendship."   
  
Just then, Harry noticed Chakotay across the dining hall, receiving food from the prattling Bolian, Chell. She must have just noticed him.   
  
"I always thought it was his marriage..." Harry said, looking at Janeway and feeling an unpleasant twinge of what might have been jealousy.   
  
"No, it was before that. I used to think it was the Equinox incident, but it started even earlier."   
  
"You two never seemed the same once Seven arrived," Harry observed.   
  
"When we first encountered Species 8472, we had a fight. A bad one," Janeway conceded.   
  
"Well, there you have it."   
  
"Maybe." She pressed her lips closed tightly.   
  
"It may be for the best. You grew in different directions," Harry remarked.   
  
"Yes. But for a short time... it was a remarkable friendship."   
  
She looked down at her plate, twirled her noodles with her fork.   
  
"I'm sorry we missed the Italian last night..." Harry said apologetically when he noticed she hadn't eaten much.   
  
"Oh, I'm not. I had a lot of fun." She smiled up at him then, and he returned it.   
  
"Miral's a good kid. A bit of a handful, but a good kid," Harry said with a grin.   
  
"With Tom and B'Elanna as her parents, it's no surprise," Janeway chuckled. He laughed some himself.   
  
"You know," Harry said wickedly. "I always wondered about those kids you had with Paris." Janeway almost spat out her coffee. "What would they have been like as humans?"   
  
"Oh, God, don't bring that up," Janeway moaned, fighting a grin. She raked a hand across her forehead.   
  
"Probably as reckless and dramatic as you... as loud and raunchy as Tom..."   
  
"They'd be demon children," Janeway replied with a laugh. "A menace to society."   
  
Harry Kim leaned closer and asked quietly, "Do you remember anything... you know, from that time?"   
  
Janeway colored a little, glanced around furtively, then beckoned him imperceptibly closer.   She leaned over to whisper in his ear.  He strained carefully so as not to miss her quiet words.

"NO!"   
  
The volume startled him, and he pulled back to see mischief in her eyes.  Harry scowled at her. He couldn't hold the scorn for long before a smile broke across his features. She returned it with a beautiful grin of her own that sent pleasure sweeping through him. And then it struck him.   
  
_I'm in love with this woman_

_Oh shit._  
  
The wrong Delaney sister. Seven of Nine. A dead woman. A hologram. A woman from a xenophobic species. A terrorist.   
  
Now the Captain.   
  
But as they finished their meal, he realized that she wasn't simply the captain to him, and he wasn't simply young Ensign Kim to her anymore. And Harry Kim, the eternal optimist, set back on course to get his heart broken.


	3. Chapter Three

THE TWELFTH YEAR OF VOYAGER'S JOURNEY 

  
  
When they entered the Volkari realm, the attacks were unstoppable.   
  
The Volkari had thousands of ships, all willing to attack the moment Voyager came within sensor range. Their realm was seemingly endless, and their ill will towards Voyager unceasing. Though their weapons were primitive, they had a form of "ablative armor" that dampened the power of Voyager's torpedoes by almost half, and dragged out fights to the point where even their primitive projectile weapons could do serious damage.   
  
Sixty-five days passed, and Voyager continued to limp through Volkari space. The hull was charred and scarred from constant attack, and decks twelve to fifteen had been shut down to conserve energy.   
  
Two months of attacks had worn out Voyager's crew. Replicators were going offline constantly, and food from the hydroponics bay was running low. Tension ran high.   
  
There was a fight in the mess hall one day. It seemed Freddy Bristow thought Billy Telfer had taken his daily allotment of food rations. A few days later, B'Elanna practically came to blows with Vorick in engineering.   
  
Every morning for two months, Janeway wearily dragged herself into astrometrics to see Mortimer Harren fiddling with the instruments.   
  
"Mr. Harren. Location?"   
  
He replied with thinly veiled irritation, "Practically the same place we were yesterday, Captain." He tapped a few buttons with undue force, and Voyager's location transposed on a map of Volkari space appeared on the large screen.   
  
Janeway pursed her lips and scowled at the image. At this rate, it would take another six months to get out of this realm.   
  
She heard a small noise issued from Mortimer Harren, and she looked over at him.   
  
"What was that, Mr. Harren?"   
  
He shifted his weight. "I fail to see your reasons for checking our position every morning, Captain," his voice was laced with his usual contempt. "If there's ever a significant change in our status, I'll let you know."   
  
"There's something to be said for peace of mind, Mr. Harren," Janeway countered, and gestured towards the view screen with a flick of her finger. "Every light-year farther we get, the better I feel."   
  
"In the meantime, you waste my time and yours, not to mention the power we expend calling up this image. I hope your... 'peace of mind' is worth the costs to this crew."   
  
Her eyes glittered dangerously, and she slowly turned to face him. "What _exactly_ are you saying, crewman?"   
  
He let out a huff of air. "I'm saying that maybe if you spent more time on the bridge and less time down here, you could get us out of this godforsaken hole. We're losing more power every day, and people are getting nervous."   
  
Janeway smiled without humor. "And you, of course, have always had your finger on the pulse of Voyager's popular opinion."   
  
"Even an introvert can tell what this crew is feeling," he snapped back, meeting her gaze with a bold one of his own. "We think you're taking us to our deaths."   
  
"And what choice do we have?" she retorted. "Go around Volkari space? You of all people should know that's impossible. It would take decades."   
  
"I'm saying maybe we shouldn't have anything to do with it at all," he replied in a cold voice.   
  
"Then what do we do?" Janeway fought to keep her voice from rising. "Give up? Settle?"   
  
"It seems only practical. We'd only have a two month journey back. Maybe the Volkari would leave us alone if we'd retreat."   
  
She scrutinized him. "Didn't you have more invested in the Alpha Quadrant than anyone, Mr. Harren? That Institute..?"   
  
He scoffed. "Captain, I gave up on going to the institute the day you destroyed the array."   
  
That stung her.   
  
"You have never actually believed we'd get home..."   
  
"One year, I did. Five years, maybe..." His voice seemed less harsh now. "Twelve years, captain... we're still here now, after twelve years of traveling, and I think we're going to die out here." He looked down, his expression frozen into a haughty, superior mask.   
  
Janeway was speechless for a moment. Could the crew really feel that way?   
  
"We've come this far. I'm not turning this ship around."   
  
He looked up at her again. "Then I wouldn't deign to argue with you further, Captain. I'm not Seven of Nine. I can't hope to get away with it."   
  
"And you're out of line, crewman," Janeway hissed.   
  
He stopped talking, and turned back to his work.   
  
Janeway glanced to her right to catch Ensign Icheb watching her. The former drone looked away quickly.   
  
She straightened up, tugged down on her shirt. "I'll keep your concerns in mind, Mr. Harren," Janeway said in her most crisp voice. "In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you'd continue to closely track our position."   
  
"Yes, ma'am."   
  
She paused in case of any lingering objections. When he dared voice none, she turned to leave astrometrics.   
  
However, the encounter left her strangely shaken. 

* * * 

  
  
"He's just scared. And angry." Chakotay reassured her later as they sat quietly together in the ready room.   
  
"But he's right."   
  
"Captain--"   
  
She picked up a padd she'd flung carelessly onto the desk before her. "Our food supplies are dangerously low. Mr. Chell estimates we've got a week, maybe two more. The crew's already starving, and the Doctor informs me I can't spread the rations any thinner without causing widespread malnutrition." She closed her eyes. "The last thing we need, there."   
  
"We'll find a planet. We'll get food."   
  
"The planets are all populated by Volkari, Chakotay. You know that." She sighed. "And then, there's the matter of the three crewmembers... three essential personnel we've lost in the last two weeks..."   
  
"They're all essential personnel."   
  
"Yes. They all are. And that makes this harder... because we're going to lose more, Chakotay. You know we're going to lose more."   
  
The last few attacks, the Volkari had managed to penetrate the shields and actually beam aboard. They'd always been taken down quickly, but not before managing to kill a total of three crewmembers and wounding countless others.   
  
Days turned into weeks... Janeway began to send boarding parties to crippled Volkari ships and had them stripped them of everything... power, equipment, food... But so rarely were these ships crippled, and so rarely did Voyager inflict enough damage so as to prevent their escape, that these raids were not enough to sustain the crew's needs.   
  
Janeway put on her uniform every morning, feeling it grow looser and looser. She watched the people around her grow thinner and thinner, and every day more hopeless.   
  
Some days Harry managed to cheer her up. He'd joke about his new ability to count his own ribs.  He tried to bring some light to the situation... Sometimes it made her happy, others it just irritated her. Once, he joked that she should try cooking a pot roast. "Then we'll have some ablative armor to line our own hull." Janeway broke down into tears.   
  
Shocked, and apologetic, he put his arms around her and tried to shush her. She drew back from him, laughing through her tears.   
  
"It was funny, Harry, really... I'm just stressed... It's just stress..."   
  
He stood there helplessly for a while, and she continued to laugh and cry intermittently. "Ablative armor.. my pot roast... that's accurate, all right..." And then she stiffened.   
  
"Captain..?"   
  
Her eyes were suddenly sharp. He could see that her mind was working quickly. "Harry, can you do something for me?"   
  
"Anything."   
  
"Volkari ships. I want you to compile every last sensor scan we have of that armor of theirs. Every last one."   
  
"We've already analyzed a fragment for weaknesses--"   
  
"I'm not looking for weaknesses." He could see her eyes glint as she rose to her feet, and any evidence of her tears had suddenly vanished. "I want to adapt it to our technology."   
  
"Use their armor for Voyager?" He looked puzzled. "I thought B'Elanna said it was incompatible."   
  
"_Their_ armor is incompatible," Janeway replied excitedly. "But what if we constructed armor of our own? Starfleet technology... Starfleet armor? B'Elanna doesn't have time. The engineering personnel are all occupied. But I know enough... Harry... I need to see those specs... Harry... can you get those for me?"   
  
He nodded briskly. "I'll get right on it."   
  
He started out the door, only looking back once to catch a glance at her. She was pacing frenetically next to her desk, a new, nervous energy vibrating through her emaciated frame. 

* * * 

  
  
Shit. Shit shit shit.   
  
She tried to fire at the one in front of her, but felt a sickening blow across the back of her head. Her knees collapsed underneath her, and the floor rushed up to meet her cheek. Her vision darkened, but she did not black out. She knew she was hurt, and hurt badly. She was going to be sick right here on the carpet.   
  
No, that wasn't nausea... that was pain. Or dizziness. She couldn't distinguish as it rolled over her, over and over again.   
  
"We've secured engineering," a distinctly alien voice barked somewhere in the distance. Janeway struggled to right herself, but her limbs felt like rubber, and she slumped back down to the floor.   
  
Then strong arms, strong and gentle, scooped her up to her feet. One was around her waist, the other gripped her forearm. She opened her eyes to meet the concerned gaze of B'Elanna Torres. Dark blood ran down the engineer's forehead, a thin trickle of it.   
  
"You okay, Captain?" she whispered.   
  
Janeway was disoriented a moment. She couldn't recall...   
  
A conference. She was meeting with B'Elanna about the ablative armor. She needed Torres's help with some design flaws she'd discovered.   
  
Then the ship shook, and they were under attack.   
  
_We're not ready!_ Janeway thought in alarm, remembering that their shields were still crippled from the attack just that morning. She had to get to the turbolift. She had to be on the bridge.   
  
And then the Volkari materialized all around them, and Kathryn had grabbed her phaser, and then she'd been clubbed across the back of the head.   
  
Now Torres supported her, growing concern on the engineer's face. And hatred. For her?  Kathryn realized that the hatred was for the Volkari with the weapons pointed at them.   
  
_Oh God, they have the ship_, Janeway thought with a sinking feeling.   
  
"We're locked out of the computer. They've sealed us on this deck," one of the Volkari was saying, as if on cue. And Janeway sagged in relief. She felt Torres pat her reassuringly on the back.   
  
The Volkari Commander turned to survey the Starfleet officers, all herded together under rifle point. Janeway pulled slightly away from B'Elanna's comforting grip to stand on her own as the olive-skinned, prominent-jawed alien glared at them with dark, beady eyes.   
  
"Who is in charge here?"   
  
Janeway felt Torres against her back, trying to step forward, but Janeway held her arm out to block the engineer's path.   
  
"I am," Janeway replied boldly.   
  
The Commander strode over to her, and stood before her a second, summing her up. He didn't seem particularly impressed, and abruptly snatched her by the shoulder and shoved her away from the rest of the group.   
  
Weak from the blow, and light from malnutrition, Kathryn tumbled easily, and landed on her shoulder with a burst of unexpected pain. Her vision blackened around her again, but by that time, the Commander had flipped her onto her back with his boot, and hovered over her menacingly.   
  
"You will give me the codes to gain access to the rest of the ship."   
  
"No."   
  
He reached down, and Janeway cringed as his gloved hand encircled her neck. Then, he lifted her to her feet, then higher to where her toes barely brushed the ground. Her head grew light, and she couldn't draw a breath against his grip. She pulled at his fingers frantically, then felt herself grow light...   
  
He held her there a long moment, his eyes boring into hers until he seemed to sense she could take no more. Then he released her. Her legs predictably collapsed beneath her.   
  
"The codes."   
  
Janeway gasped for breath. It hurt to breath. She could barely get out, "When my crew comes down here... they'll kill you..."   
  
He raised a fist as if to strike her, and she flinched back. Then he seemed to have second thoughts.   
  
"No..." He straightened, then turned to survey the group of fearful crewmen. He walked back towards them, grabbed Jenny Delaney, and hauled her forward for Janeway's inspection.   
  
"Leave her alone," Janeway growled.   
  
"Observe," he intoned. Before she realized what he was doing, he'd slipped a dagger from his waist and plunged it through the poor girl's abdomen.   
  
Janeway cried out as Jenny Delaney did, and instinctively started forward, only to stumble to her knees again. One of the Volkari drew forward to stand between her and his Commander. The Volkari leader tightened his grip on the dagger, held the agonized Delaney sister in place, and then with one firm yank dragged the blade up to her chest.   
  
When he pulled it out again, the girl slumped to the floor. There was no question she was dead. Sounds of fear and anger came from the huddled group of crewmembers, and only Crewman Jarvis's hand clamped on Megan Delaney's mouth kept her screams from filling engineering.   
  
Janeway crouched on the floor, trembling in shock and rage.   
  
The Commander sneered at her, and then surveyed the engineering staff. "I count another fourteen crewmen here. Must I kill all of them for you to release those codes to me?"   
  
Janeway stared at Jenny's body. Her voice shook. "Don't. They didn't do anything to you. I'm the one..."   
  
"Then open the ship to us."   
  
"I can't!" Janeway rasped.   
  
He shrugged. "Very well."   
  
And then Noah Lessing was in hand, and the young man's face contorted in agony as the Commander plunged the dagger into him. Moments later, he was split open to the chest, too, and the young man fell to the ground, dead.   
  
_Dear God, he's going to do this to all of them_.   
  
"The codes, Captain."   
  
"If you kill another one, I'll _never_ give you the codes."   
  
"I don't believe that. Perhaps she will be incentive for you," and he ripped Megan Delaney out of Jarvis's arms. Moments later, she joined her twin sister on the floor of engineering.   
  
"You bastard... I'll kill you..." Janeway heard herself muttering. She was shaking so hard she could barely keep her knees under her. "You can't kill them all... I'll never tell you then... You can't make me..."   
  
"...If I still don't have the codes after they're all dead, then I will beat them out of you. Really, it's simple captain..." his words faded out of her hearing, and she was shaking her head. It came down to, "Tell me now!"   
  
Tal Celes in his arms. The wide-eyed Bajoran stood paralyzed with fear.   
  
_I'm not a part of Voyager... I just live here..._ The heartbreaking words she'd told Janeway a few years earlier. Kathryn had her transferred to Engineering. She'd sent her to her death.   
  
"Please... don't ask me for what I can't give!"   
  
Tal Celes... Dead on the floor.   
  
Jerron next. Nichols. His hands were soaked in their blood. The floor was littered with their bodies.   
  
"All your fault, Captain. You've killed each of them," he told her. Heartless, ruthless bastard.   
  
He grabbed B'Elanna.   
  
And then security was in engineering, and the Volkari were dead. Phasers that had been at stun were switched to kill when the carnage in engineering came into view.   
  
Janeway huddled on the floor, unseeing, sickened. Then someone's arms were around her, helping her to her feet, helping her down the corridor.   
  
She ripped away and collapsed to her knees, retching.   
  
He caressed her cheeks as he pulled her hair back from her face. His hand around her shoulder steadied her, prevented her from tumbling over into her own vomit. When she started to sob, heedless and oblivious to those shuffling out of engineering, he had the presence of mind to pick her up and carry her into empty quarters. He cradled her in his arms as she released her agony, guilt, horror.   
  
She clamped her hands over her eyes and face for the longest time, the longest time, shutting out the horrors of the past hour. Megan. Jenny. Celes. Jerron. Lessing. Nichols. Seven...   
  
She almost wretched again, but found herself dry heaving painfully. And he stroked her back.   
  
The hand continued, moving gently back and forth as she continued to shiver.   
  
Then a gentle, tender voice, "It's okay. It's all right, Kathryn. You did the only thing you could. If you'd told him, we'd all be dead now. You saved us... You couldn't have done it any differently."   
  
And it wasn't the voice she'd expected. It was almost the voice of a stranger. She knew him, but in her pain, she was beyond shock, beyond surprise.   
  
She stayed curled up, her hands clamped suffocatingly tight over her face, trembling in her own private hell for hours until she passed out from she sheer stress of it all.   
  
Chakotay stayed beside her the whole time. 


	4. Chapter Four

  
The senior staff walked on eggshells around her as soon as she was fit for duty. They all held their breath, fearing that she'd relapse into the depression from Seven's death.   
  
She didn't. She knew, and they knew, that she couldn't indulge in that again. Not here.  Not now.   
  
The faces haunted her. The six crewmen dead that day. She couldn't sleep for more than an hour, even two, without waking up as though someone had slapped her. 

Her hands would start trembling. She never knew why they started, or why they'd stop again. The Doctor attributed it to nerves. She stopped thinking about it after a while. 

The day after, engineering was cleaned up. The staff had been dramatically reduced, and Janeway transferred crewmen from the sciences to begin half-hearted training in ship repair. Naomi Wildman overnight became an ensign, and served as a filler crewmember for whatever post was necessary at the time. Even little Miral's limited knowledge of basic machinery came into use.   
  
And Janeway ordered the Doctor to leave all bodies, both enemy and friend, on the freezing deck 14.   
  
"Why, may I ask?" The Doctor demanded when she made the order.   
  
"Emergencies, doctor. Emergencies," she replied cryptically. He didn't learn for nearly a month just what she had in mind.   
  
The day came when they were nearly out of food. Fainting spells on duty were commonplace, and many of the crew were having difficulty rising in the morning. Janeway stopped into sickbay to visit the Doctor.   
  
"Doctor... deck 14..."   
  
"The preserved bodies. Yes, what about them?"   
  
"I want you to retrieve the Volkari bodies. Right now."   
  
Warily, the EMH did as she asked, and soon had the Volkari stretched out on the biobeds.   
  
"Captain..?"   
  
Janeway closed her eyes, her pale, sunken cheeks suddenly aflame. "I want you to scan them... See if they're edible."   
  
"Captain..." he murmured in horror.   
  
Janeway opened her eyes, two sharp, blue crystals, burning with a frightening intensity. She stood there, dirty, unruffled, aged ten years in a few months, half doubled over with starvation. She seemed to grow into something powerful, powerful and terrible before his eyes.   "My crew is starving to death."   
  
The Doctor ran the tricorder up and down a Volkari male. His dark eyes flickered back to her. "He's perfectly edible. You could taste him now, if you'd like." He said the words with undue harshness, and then suddenly felt ashamed. She didn't seem to notice.   
  
She reached out a hand to feel the Volkari's rough flesh. He noticed her fingers were trembling violently. "Then this is what we'll have to do." 

* * * 

  
  
Chakotay entered her ready room to find her contemplating a plate before her. His heart jumped in his chest, and he was suddenly urgently aware of his hunger.   
  
It looked like meat of some kind... But at this point, he couldn't care less.   
  
"Kathryn..." His voice was strained.   
  
Janeway looked up at him, the look in her eyes unsettling.   
  
"Where'd you get... food?"   
  
She reached out, pulled a bit off. Her hand was trembling. "I'd been trying to work up the courage to try some."   
  
He gazed at her steadily, and she slowly brought the bit to her mouth. She chewed for a second, seemed to have difficulty swallowing, and then it was done.   
  
"Where..." his voice sounded hollow.   
  
Her eyes swept back up to his, glittering. "They're animals, Chakotay. No, not animals. You saw what they did in engineering. They're beasts."   
  
And he understood her.   
  
"Please tell me you understand."   
  
He approached the desk slowly, and lowered himself into the chair across from her. His own hand shook as he pulled some off for himself.   
  
After he swallowed, holding her eyes the whole time, she knew he understood.   
  
"Can you inform Mr. Chell?" she said quietly.   
  
He nodded grimly. "Anything in particular you want me to tell him?"   
  
"Tell him..." she paused, a strange expression on her face. "Tell him they taste a bit like chicken."   
  
In retrospect, it was the joke that disturbed him the most.   
  
  


*          *          *

  
He found her standing alone, gazing out the view port. She looked pale and regal in the dim starlight, and very alone. Her bony arms were folded across her now nearly-flat chest, and only her sharp, blue eyes defied her general air of fragility.   
  
"Here..." Harry said as he approached her, presenting her with an elegant glass filled nearly to the brim with water.   
  
She turned and looked at him questioningly.   
  
"We can at least pretend it's champagne. I'm sure this occasion merits it." At her doubtful look, he reassured her, "My water ration-- not general supply."   
  
She took it then, and silently turned back to gaze out the view port.   
  
"How does it feel, finally seeing armor on the ship?" he asked her.   
  
"I should have finished it sooner."   
  
"But you finished it; that's the important thing."   
  
She didn't reply to this.   
  
"A toast, Captain?" he offered, raising his own glass.   
  
She looked down at the glass in her hand, as though she'd forgotten it was there. "To what?"   
  
"To evening the odds."   
  
Her eyes flickered to his, her expression indefinable. Finally, she raised her glass to meet his. As they clinked, she added, "And to those who aren't here today to see it."   
  
He polished off his glass with a few rapid swigs, forgetting the pretense of champagne. He looked up to see Kathryn frowning into her own glass, her eyes dark and unfathomable. He knew her mind was back at the incident in engineering two months earlier. Since that day, Harry had occasionally noticed her lapse into disquieting silences, her eyes glazed and dull. These silences never lasted more than a few minutes, and were becoming less and less frequent, but they troubled him. He knew exactly what was haunting her in those moments, and it hurt him to think of her pain.   
  
Harry fumbled for words to distract her from her thoughts.   
  
"I have to admit... I'm actually looking forward to engaging the Volkari again. Just wait until they see we have ablative armor of our own."   
  
A bleak, tight-lipped smile appeared on her face.   
  
"It's almost a pity we're out of here in two months," he continued. "We could really raise some hell, give them a taste of their own medicine."   
  
"I don't know," she said ruefully. "I think we already have our own brand of justice."   
  
There was a silence as he comprehended the meaning behind her words.   
  
"Speaking of which," she continued casually, "Have you eaten yet?"   
  
"I was actually saving my ration in case you were hungry."   
  
A genuine smile found its way to her lips. "Well, let's go get something to eat. Mr. Chell should have more than enough food for us today." 

* * * 

  
  
They'd been attacked and boarded just two days earlier, leaving twenty dead Volkari littering the corridors, along with two of Janeway's crew. Despite the pain of losing two more crewmen, Janeway had been somewhat relieved. They'd been running low on food, and she didn't yet want to ask the crew to feed on their own dead. She could vividly recall how many had balked at eating the Volkari. In the end, hunger had been a stronger voice than any order she could possibly give, but some part of her doubted it would be the same case once their own crewmates ended up on the cutting board.   
  
The bodies of Voyager's dead...   
  
Janeway had ordered them left on the frozen Deck 14 along with the Volkari. The crew was fully aware that the bodies were still on ship, but no one dared to mention it out loud. It was an awareness constantly hanging over their minds, a grim possibility for the future. In some part of her mind, Janeway believed that she'd never have the issue presented to her, that they'd have a constant influx of dead Volkari to fuel the mess hall. Janeway knew it could be her Pandora's box, and did her best to keep it at a distance.   
  
So she was surprised when it was the Doctor who first pressed the issue. 

* * * 

  
  
It started when Ken Dalby burst into her ready room, phaser in hand.   
  
Janeway had been immersed in damage reports from the attack three days earlier. The door opened. She looked up sharply at the intrusion, then leaped to her feet when she spotted the phaser and the crazed look on Dalby's face. Training his weapon at her, Dalby circled around the desk in three bounds and slapped her com badge, and incidentally, her chest with undue force.   
  
"You call that bastard, and you tell him to stop!" he rasped, standing so close she could feel his hot breath against her cheek.   
  
Janeway blinked. And blinked again. Maybe she hadn't been sleeping well, or it was the lack of caffeine, because she couldn't seem to understand what he was talking about. She looked blankly at the phaser (set to kill, she noticed), and then back up at his face. "What?"   
  
The anger, the agony of his expression stole her breath away, and he took a menacing step forward while she could only stumble back against her own desk.   
  
"You aren't feeding my wife to that goddamn monster! Call and tell that holographic bastard to put her back!"   
  
Some of her command instincts snapped into place, and she straightened before him, looking as powerful and dangerous as she would before any foe.   
  
Sternly, "Mr. Dalby, I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Put down that phaser and explain to me coherently."   
  
Her tone seemed to affect a change in his demeanor, and his rage-fueled confidence faltered. He recoiled a step, and she was alarmed to see bright tears spring to his eyes. The phaser was still pointed at her. "He can't do that to Jenny... It isn't right."   
  
"Who? Who's doing _what_ to Jenny?" Janeway demanded.   
  
"You don't know?" Dalby's voice was almost pitiful now. "He's feeding her to that... that Volkari bastard in sickbay."   
  
Janeway felt her insides suddenly go cold, and her eyes narrowed into slits.   
  
Janeway's voice was deadly.

_"What Volkari in sickbay?" _

* * * 

The door to sickbay slid open, and Janeway walked in, cold blue eyes glittering dangerously. The Doctor could see the phaser in her hand, tucked in a deceptively casual way against her side. He moved quickly to intercept her.   
  
Janeway's face radiated cold fury. She hissed, "Where's the Volkari?"   
  
The Doctor began, "Captain, please let me explain--"   
  
"Oh, I'll deal with you later," she said in a deathly quiet voice. "Now, where--" she tried to step around him, he blocked her path.   
  
"I won't let you kill him."   
  
A bitter smile curled at her lips. "I don't recall you having any say in the matter. He's an enemy, he's onboard my ship, and he's breathing our air--"   
  
"Captain--"   
  
Janeway's voice grew sharper with rage, "--And I'm _certainly_ not letting you keep him here. Now get the hell out of my way!"   
  
He seemed too taken aback by her outburst to move for a moment, and it was all the time she needed to lance around him.   
  
A Volkari lying on his back, propped up by his elbows, had his dark, beady eyes on them throughout the exchange. He now flinched back into the bed, as far as his restraints would allow, as Janeway prowled straight towards him. Her entire body uncoiled as she lifted the phaser --   
  
And she was stopped cold with the hiss of an injection into her neck.   
  
The phaser slipped out of her hand and to the ground. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she sagged helplessly towards the floor. The Doctor caught her just in time, and scooped her up into his arms.   
  
As he hauled her across the room, everything in her longed to struggle, to kick, to rip out of his grasp, but her body didn't respond to her commands. Her mind railed against this turn of events. She could barely breathe-- she was choking on her own fury. She could hear a soft, animalistic growl in her own throat, a sound that in other circumstances would be a loud cry of frustration.   
  
Her body was heavy and limp in his arms as he took her into his office, and then plopped her down firmly in the chair across from his. Her torso slumped, and her head lolled against her shoulder. She still had control of her eyelids, and some power over her speech, and as he circled around to take a seat across from her, she hoped she projected indescribable hatred in her gaze.   
  
_I'll delete the bastard... how dare he do this... keeping a Volkari... injecting me_, her thoughts seethed.   
  
She tried to tell him so. An unintelligible sound issued from her throat. The Doctor gazed at her with dark, troubled eyes.   
  
"Now, I know how you must be angry with me," he looked at her, then amended, "No, an understatement. You must be furious."   
  
_That would still be an understatement you soon-to-be-oblivion, holographic mother-fucker!_ her mind raged impotently.   
  
"But please, let me explain... I had to give you a muscle relaxant to make you hear me out. You would have simply gone and murdered that man."   
  
_Not a man, a beast... a beast, you goddamn, photonic bastard_... Janeway's words came out as, "Mmmphm..." Her voice shook. It was practically a growl. It didn't sound like what she'd hoped to say, but she thought the sheer venom of her tone would convey her feelings.   
  
"When the Volkari attacked three days ago," the Doctor went on, heedless of her noises, "One of them found their way into sickbay. I managed to sedate him before he did any damage. The young man you saw out there was the aforementioned Volkari... Torvone."   
  
_Friends, are you?_ Janeway thought with a sneer.   
  
"You have to understand, Captain... He was still alive, and healthy. I couldn't tell you because I knew you'd kill him, and as a Doctor, I can't allow that. I also know the crew's been making use of the Volkari bodies, but because he was still alive, I couldn't allow him to be fed upon. It is one thing to consume the bodies of those killed in the attack. It's another to murder a healthy man for the purpose..."   
  
Janeway fought to speak. All she could force out of her numbed lips was, "...mmmee..." He ignored her efforts.   
  
"As for Jennifer Delaney's body," the Doctor said after a beat, his expression even more troubled. He stopped, seemingly for a breath, before, "You see, Captain, now that Torvone is here... it's my duty as a doctor to keep him alive. He simply has to eat. The only nourishment we have consists of dead bodies. I couldn't feed him another Volkari... if the Voyager crew refrains from outright cannibalism, I can't ask him to consume his own people. You'd been preserving the bodies of our crew on Deck 14, and I figured this was a suitable occasion to make use of that resource."   
  
_No right...you had no right..._ she was inwardly seething, despite some rational part of her mind understanding the merit of his words.   
  
"Jenny Delaney's body is still intact. I haven't touched it yet, so if you truly must return it to Deck 14, you can still do so. But please try to understand, Captain. I cannot break my Hippocratic oath. 'Do no harm.' I can't offer this man up to be murdered, and I can't condemn him to starvation." He passed a beat in silence, simply holding her gaze. "I know that some part of you must understand."   
  
There was a grave silence.   
  
The Doctor finally said, "But I guess in the end, there's nothing I can do to help him; his fate is in your hands. I know that if I attempt to intervene further, you could simply deactivate my program." Then, troubled, "Or you may deactivate it after this, anyway... But I digress. All I can really do is try to show you reason."   
  
He stood up, and walked behind her chair, beyond her sight. She could hear him fiddling with some equipment.   
  
"All I ask, Captain," he continued as he reappeared before her, holding another hypospray, his face still troubled, "Is that you think... think long and hard before you act. Situations like our current predicament can twist people, distort viewpoints. But I like to think there is a certain sense of conduct, call it morality, that will remain no matter how bleak a situation." He bent down and pressed the hypo to her neck, pausing only to meet her eyes one last time.   
  
"I know you, Captain. You're a genuinely good person. You're not a murderer. And if you do what you came to do, I know you'll spend the rest of your life hating yourself for it..."   
  
Hiss.   
  
"It will be a few minutes before this takes full effect," the Doctor continued softly, withdrawing the hypospray. "I'll... I'll be out of sickbay for a while. What happens next is in your hands."   
  
_Coward...too afraid to face me..._ Janeway thought as he turned and walked out of sickbay.   
  
She remained in the chair, limp, helpless, waiting until feeling slowly trickled back into her limbs. She knew where she'd dropped the phaser. She'd go in, she'd take it, and finish what she'd started.   
  
Finish what she'd started... finish him off... damned Volkari son-of-a-bitch...   
  
Her legs slowly twitched to life. Her first attempts to walk proved unsuccessful. Though she had some feeling, her legs wouldn't yet support her weight. After a few tries, though, she got her feet under her.   
  
One step... two steps... She made her way unsteadily across the office, her senses growing sharper, her perception clearing with each movement.   
  
Five steps... six steps... She emerged out into the dim sickbay. The phaser was lying on the floor only a few feet away. She could feel the Volkari's eyes on her.   
  
Nine steps... ten steps... bend. Her hand wrapped around the phaser.   
  
Slowly, painstakingly, she rose back up again. She checked the setting, switched to kill.   
  
Then she turned around and looked at the Volkari.   
  
His beady eyes held onto hers. She couldn't discern the expression on his face, whether it was fear, or hatred, or something else. The large jaw and round little eyes lent him an almost cartoonish appearance...   
  
But no... She could remember the Volkari commander, that day in engineering, when he slaughtered one of her crew after another. Megan. Jenny. Celes. Jerron. Lessing. Nichols. There was nothing cartoonish about him then, nothing absurd. His eyes opaque, without any hint of color or discernable pupil, had been far from absurd or silly... They were impenetrable, callous, ruthless...   
  
And it seemed to her she saw the same qualities in the eyes of the helpless Volkari bound to the biobed before her. And her fingers twitched on the phaser. She looked away when something caught her eye. She noticed the body of Jenny Delaney, stretched out on a biobed in the far corner of the room, and her mood veered sharply back to anger. Hatred, fresh and potent, surged through her.   
  
"Hoping for a snack?" she hissed, addressing the Volkari for the first time, gazing at him through dangerously glinting eyes.   
  
He held her gaze for a long moment, and then his lips twisted into a sneer. "I told the man," the Volkari said slowly, his tone dripping with insolence, "As I will tell you... I would die before I would soil my lips on your flesh." He looked at her with undisguised contempt. "You are nothing but savages, feeding on other humanoids."   
  
Her expression turned thunderous, and she tore forward angrily, prowling right up to his side. "How dare you..." she was almost breathless with rage, "You attack us... you attack us relentlessly... all we wanted was to get home, but it was too much to ask!... you slaughter my crew like cattle... you deprive us of the necessities for life... and you dare, DARE question this!" She grasped him impulsively by the collar, her fingernails raking his neck like talons. "You stole _everything_ from us, you reduced us to animals, that we had to resort to this... and now you think you can mock us... that you're superior--"   
  
He held her gaze unflinchingly, his tone belligerent. "My people don't maul helpless prisoners."   
  
"No," It was an effort for Janeway to unclench her fist, and she shoved his head with a hard thump back to the biobed. "You just rip them open, don't you? You slaughter them in front of each other--"   
  
"I know nothing of slaughter."   
  
"Two months ago. Two months ago, your people came aboard my ship, and they killed one crewmember after another. They ripped them to pieces while they were helpless. What do you call that, Torvone? Is it some policy of yours? What do you call it, Torvone! Slaughter... murder..."   
  
He held her eyes, his own face gray with anger . "From what I've seen of your people-- public service."   
  
She backhanded him. His head snapped to the side, then slowly rolled forward. He sneered again.   
  
"Weakling Federation... when my people come, they'll make you pay... you'll die screaming..."   
  
"Oh, will I?" she hissed.   
  
"We'll drown your men in their own blood... make whores of your women... throw you to the recruits--"   
  
And he stopped when she leveled the phaser to his head. Her expression was demonic, and he froze, his breathing halted, as though realizing the peril of his situation for the first time.   
  
"Will you?" she challenged, daring him to speak.   
  
He said nothing.   
  
_I could kill him now,_ Janeway thought. _I could kill this bastard, and no one would question it._ She knew the crew would be glad. She knew she would be...   
  
Six long months of fighting, of bloodshed... twelve years in the Delta Quadrant. She could justify it. The crew would be indifferent, and if she ever faced Starfleet, she could justify it.   
  
Her anger fought with the faint, nagging voice in the back of her head, the same voice that had urged her to destroy the array, to condemn the crew to the Delta Quadrant. It had brought her nothing but trouble. Torvone had brought her nothing but trouble. Damn morality. Damn principles. Damn Torvone.   
  
But Kathryn Janeway was still a Starfleet Officer.   
  
The basics-- never shoot an unarmed man, never harm the helpless... She'd learned them from her father long before she learned them from Starfleet. The Volkari violated the morality of any decent being... now was she justified in doing the same? Could she cross that line? Could she go from a rash, justified act, to outright, premeditated murder? Because now she wasn't caught in the whirlwind of rage. She wasn't heedless of the consequences. Thanks to the Doctor, she knew exactly what she was about to do, what she would violate, and the consequences of her act.   
  
Her weapon was a phaser. His was only words.   
  
She took a step back, then another, fighting her instinct for murder as though it were a tangible force. She forced the phaser down to her side. She turned herself around and slowly made her way to the door.   
  
Somewhere, she was vaguely aware of the Volkari throwing taunts at her. She was beyond the point where they'd have any impact.   
  
"Janeway to the Doctor," she heard herself say, her voice strangely hollow.   
  
"Doctor here," came the EMH's nervous voice.   
  
"Doctor, I want you to return Jenny Delaney's body to Deck 14."   
  
"Will she... be unnecessary?"   
  
She heard the uncertainty in his words.   
  
Finally, Janeway replied through gritted teeth, "Our... guest... refuses to eat. We can only respect his wishes."   
  
The relief in his voice was audible as he replied, "Yes, Captain."   
  
"And Doctor?"   
  
"Captain?"   
  
"If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will delete your personality subroutines. Understood?"   
  
"Understood."   
  
"Janeway out."


	5. Chapter Five

THE REST OF THE JOURNEY 

  
  
_We can only respect his wishes._ Just a few words, and she accorded a status to the Volkari, she acknowledged his right to live, and die, as a sentient being. She allowed an enemy a reprieve from murder, an extended death as opposed to a quick one, for the sheer sake of remaining a good Starfleet Officer.   
  
The mistake she'd made. The terrible mistake.   
  
Some part of her applauded herself for her own righteousness, disregarded the sheer reality of it all. She'd accepted the Doctor's views, forgetting that his perspective was tainted by subroutines, an inability to feel pain, and a sheer lack of life experience. She had no such excuse. What had she expected? That the prisoner would meekly accept starving to death ?   
  
Voyager didn't have the power for force fields. Mechanical restraints alone held the Volkari to his biobed, and not for long after he began working at them. 

* * * 

  
  
It was a quiet night and almost five days later when she found Harry on duty for a volunteer Engineering shift, working on the collapsed lighting panel in her quarters. When the door closed, he looked up from the fallen console to see her standing there, gazing at him with a pensive look on her face.   
  
"Captain?"   
  
"Harry."   
  
"Kathryn," he amended. "How's it going?"   
  
"You're working? I thought these were your off hours."   
  
He shrugged. "I thought I'd put in a little face time. Besides, there's not much else to do, with the holodecks down. You did mention your lights were out."   
  
She circled around to his side of the console, and lowered herself to the deck next to him. Harry flicked off the hypo spanner, and directed his full attention to her.   
  
Kathryn asked, "How have you been, Harry? These last few months, I mean."   
  
He looked at her curiously, and then smiled uncertainly. "I'm fine. Everything's been fine, considering. Why?"   
  
She turned her head sideways a little to gaze at him. "I was just thinking about you, and here you are. We haven't had much chance to talk lately."   
  
"You've been busy." He put the hypo spanner back in its case. "You've had a lot on your shoulders recently. You know I'm always here to be your friend."   
  
"And you have been," she said with a smile. It wasn't quite up to the grins of old, but he was glad to see her look a little happier. "You've been good to me."   
  
A smile lit across his handsome face. "Just a part of my job, ma'am."   
  
She grasped his hand in hers and pumped it once.   
  
"So much of this time, Harry, I don't know how I would have gotten by without you. You've been invaluable."   
  
He squeezed her hand back. "Thanks. It's good to hear that from you." They sat there a moment, seated together on the hard deck, hands locked. Harry gathered his courage, and with a little tug, pulled her against his side and looped his arm around her shoulders. She didn't resist the gesture, to his surprise and relief. She even let her head rest on his shoulder.   
  
They sat together in silence for a few minutes. Her eyes grew heavy, her entire body relaxed in the sudden intimacy. He leaned his cheek against her, relishing the sheer peace of the moment, alone together in her darkened quarters. It was times like this, the rare times like this, that he wondered if maybe, in some deep part of her, she might regard him as more than a friend. Maybe--   
  
And then they heard a vague scuffling, getting closer and closer.   
  
"What could that be?" Janeway wondered, sitting up straight, staring across the room towards the sound.   
  
"Sounds like someone's in the Jeffries Tube," Harry replied. He shot her a reassuring smile, and rose to his feet. "The Engineering team's been using them to get around the ship. Someone must have forgotten that I was already working here..."   
  
Janeway sat impassively and watched as Kim crossed the quarters, knelt, and started to pull off the panel to access the Jeffries Tube.   
  
"Hey, I've got it covered--" He started to pull at the panel.   
  
It jerked off and propelled itself into his face, knocking him to the ground. He cried out, and his hands covered his face, dark blood running between his fingers. Janeway sprang to her feet as a figure slid out of the tube, and Janeway realized that the person had kicked the panel into Kim's face.   
  
She was frozen a split second in surprise and confusion, and the Volkari pounced on Harry.   
  
Janeway darted across the quarters, and realized with a start that it was Torvone's fists flashing viciously across Harry's jaw. Prolonged starvation had drained Harry of his old strength, whereas the Volkari's five days had little consequence to him.   
  
Janeway rushed in, grasped the massive shoulders of the Volkari, attempted to jerk him bodily off of Kim, or at least distract him enough for Kim to wriggle out. Torvone paid her no heed, a large arm thrusting out and easily knocking her reed like body across the room, slamming her into the wall.   
  
A few moments passed, and she was there, stunned and dizzy, caught in the sheer unreality of the situation. Torvone... She'd left the damn bastard alive...   
  
Security. She needed to call security.   
  
Her hand fumbled at her chest, and she realized the com badge had come off in the fight. Harry's struggles seemed to be dying down, and she didn't want to think right now of the implications of that.   
  
She spotted the cold metal glinting a little away on the rug, and lanced her hand towards it.   
  
A heavy boot came down onto her arm, pinning it to the floor. She tried to pull back, but her arm was trapped painfully. With a decidedly deliberate insolence, Torvone bent down, picked up the badge, tossed it into the still open Jeffries Tube. Then, he reached out a heavy fist and slammed the access panel shut.   
  
"Torvone, you'd better--" she began, but then he reached down, grasped her by the collar, hauled her up to her feet like she was weightless. A few steps forward and he had her pinned back against the wall. She pressed her hands against his chest weakly. "Torvone--"   
  
His clamped his fist over her mouth, his fingers digging into the flesh of her cheeks. "Not a word." He stared at her with an unsettling intensity. "Weakling Federation... Mocking me in the medical bay… How does it feel to find our positions reversed?"   
  
Janeway held his gaze in silence. She felt a wave of apprehension, fearing he'd follow the example of his predecessors and kill Harry as some sort of punishment.   
  
"I told you..." he said quietly, "..that you would die screaming..." He was breathing heavily. She could feel his chest rise and fall against her, and she wasn't sure if he was winded from the fight, or breathless in anticipation.   
  
When he lifted his hand a little, Janeway said quietly, "Torvone... you'll never escape this ship if you kill me." She stared up into chilling eyes that were too close for her liking.   
  
"Escape?" he stared at her, an unsettling look on his face. "Escape to live a life of dishonor? To tell my family I suffered as a prisoner rather than attaining glory in death? No... There will be no escape. All I seek is revenge."   
  
Before her mind could sort through the implications of his words, he drove his fist into her stomach, doubling her over painfully. She fought to breathe as his other fist slid from her mouth and slammed into her ribs. She heard something crack. A wave of agony rocked through her, and when her breath came back, she could hear herself whimper as her knees gave way. He must have broken her ribs... She tried to support herself, couldn't...   
  
He caught her around the waist, dragged her with him into the other room. It was then she thought of screaming, but then she remembered that the quarters around hers were vacant this shift, and no one outside of those would hear her...   
  
He tangled his hand into her hair, and continued to drag her to the other side of the room, towards her desk. He lifted a bottle off her desk, clutched it by the neck, and slammed it back down, shattering the glass. Kathryn tensed as he brought it towards her, realizing that he was going to use it on her... either to slit her throat or worse...   
  
He tossed her forward over the desk, carelessly onto broken shards of glass. She felt them chafe her skin, and struggled to push herself up, only to feel his hand on her back, pushing her roughly back down onto the desk. She wriggled forward, and a hand grabbed her arm, wrenched it back, twisted it up between her shoulder blades.   
  
Helpless now, she lay there fighting for breath, hearing him do the same behind her. A few months ago, she might have been able to put up a fight. She might have been strong enough mentally, if not physically. But something in her withered now, and she felt her cheek sink against the cool surface of the desk.   
  
Everything slowed as if in a dream, and a cool fog descended over her. The pain in her ribs faded to only an awareness, the glass against her torso was a mere speck in her comprehension.   
  
She felt him press up against her, behind her. He pushed his torso against her buttocks in a lewd gesture, and he pressed the broken bottle against her skin. He raked the jagged edge forward, across her back, and she squeezed her eyes shut, the cry of pain frozen by the realization that she didn't feel it.   
  
He carved up her skin for what seemed like a few minutes, trying to elicit a scream, before he gave up and tossed the glass to the ground. Then he was tearing at her pants.   
  
"Threatening me…Now you'll know… You'll pay ..." Muttering. He was only muttering. She didn't listen to him.   
  
Since you're sleeping on a regular basis, Seven, I see no more need for a regeneration alcove   
  
Regeneration is more efficient.   
  
He was probing with his fingers, intently, seeking--   
  
Perhaps. But I can't see the use of expending 0.9% of the ship's energy supply every year simply so you can have a more efficient means of sleep. You'll have to make do like the rest of the crew.   
  
-- pressing against her, finding--   
  
I should have let her keep the regeneration alcove... It centered her.   
  
She was vaguely aware of a sudden, brief pain, momentarily worse than the cuts she had on her back. It faded with repetition.   
  
Biggest mistake of your life, Chakotay... That wedding. You two weren't right for each other... I wasn't right for either of you...   
  
One of the few people who have mastered the art of callousness. How long ago did the Doctor say that to her? Did he really think that?   
  
The world flipped over, and she was lying on her back now staring at the gray ceiling. Torvone's ugly, cartoonish face leered over her, breath hot and sour, teeth crooked. He tore her shirt open, and she noticed blood on his hands. It was hers. He was muttering something, his body jerking spasmodically against hers--   
  
We're still here after twelve years of traveling, and I think we're going to die out here... But we haven't yet, Mr. Harren, have we?   
  
I came here as a friend. Harry. The tears glinting in his eyes broke her heart, now, looking back. Was he still alive? She couldn't see him. The world was blurred, and she realized that there were tears streaming from her eyes. She could hear a muffled sound issuing from her throat each time Torvone jerked. Pain?   
  
The Doctor looked with condemnation. My crew is starving to death.   
  
Her eyes, closed, suddenly snapped open. The crew! What--   
  
Torvone shoved her back down, and she was aware of a restraint other than his arm keeping her down. He'd broken her ribs. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten.

Tal Celes's pained eyes flashed through her mind and Torvone stiffened, then collapsed onto her, breathing raggedly. She thought of Noah Lessing terrified in the cargo bay as she tried to kill him when Torvone pulled back and stared in triumph... empty as Napoleon's triumph when he claimed the burning Moscow...   
  
She let her head slump back, her thoughts whirling listlessly, her body disconnected. All she could feel was a strange, powerful vibration through her body, like an electrical current. She could float if she wanted to, right out of her body, right out of her ship, into the darkness of space...   
  
And Harry broke the vase over Torvone's skull. She heard the Volkari grunt before he collapsed.   
  
When he fell, she almost slipped off the desk to the floor. Harry grabbed her, and tried to cover her, calling in a broken voice for the Doctor, hugging her to him.   
  
"It's okay, Harry. I'm fine now," she told him, but her voice only came out as a dim whisper, and he didn't seem to hear her.   
  
"Gods... I'll kill him for you, I'll kill the bastard, are you all right? We'll get you all fixed up..."   
  
"...I'm fine. I'm all right. I'm not in any pain..." She told him, but he again didn't seem to hear.   
  
"We'll get the Doctor here, and he'll make everything feel better..."   
  
She whispered the words to him over and over... "I'm fine... everything's fine...."   
  
Harry merely held her and repeated words of comfort, as though she weren't even speaking.   
  
You can transcend it all, she later told Chakotay. It stops mattering to you after awhile. I stopped feeling fear, and now I've stopped feeling pain. There's nothing to hurt in the present, only the pain of the past.   
  
When she woke the next day, Torvone was dead and her hair was completely white. She ran her fingertips through it, marveling at it with one part of her mind, unsurprised in another. But she was fine. She went onto the bridge as soon as she was physically fit, and she felt fine. She smiled and laughed. The reason the crew looked at her with troubled eyes eluded her.   
  
Voyager left Volkari space, in such a short time to her. Food, real food, began to trickle back into the mess hall.   
  
"I wish I could change it all," she said sometimes. She'd smile distantly at Harry. "I think it all started to go wrong when Seven died."   
  
"Kathryn..."   
  
"It's fine now, but we've already done all the damage--"   
  
His hands on her shoulders. "Kathryn, I feel like I'm losing you. Please talk to me."   
  
He sometimes even alluded to their swim in the ocean. "You swam farther and farther from shore, and I had to catch you... I feel like that again, only you're too far for me to reach this time."   
  
But every time she told him the truth, that everything was fine now, that she finally understood, his eyes grew more troubled, his face more distant. How close they'd become... and how far they began to drift.   
  
She turned back to Chakotay, who at least seemed reassured by her cheer, cheer as empty as his continued reverence for his late wife.   
  
Things became peaceful between them, for the most part. Sometimes he got drunk and cursed at Kathryn... claimed he'd always loved her, that he'd been robbed. And sometimes Kathryn got drunk and would weep endlessly, as though the universe had destroyed itself. They never drank heavily at the same time. They always needed the other sober, holding to their own denial, so as not to make their own seem real.   
  
The EMH was shame-faced around her for a long time, despite her attempts to reassure him.   
  
"It's not your fault. I'm fine... We know now, what I should have known thirteen years ago..." he always stopped listening to her at this point, but she repeated it in her head like a mantra-- "Never help strangers before your own crew..."   
  
There was a voice. It used to point out her obligations, her limits. It told her what she could not dare strive for, achieve, it told her right from wrong. It told her she could not murder. It told her she could not allow suffering. And when she woke up and realized her hair was white, she also realized that she couldn't hear that voice anymore.   
  
_Seven of Nine, proud and erect, staring with ill-concealed Borg insolence at the humans before her. Seven of Nine, a faint smile on her lips, stepping into the unfamiliar territory of human emotion.   
  
Chakotay grinning at Kathryn, reclining comfortably in the sailboat beneath a moonlit sky. The winds of Lake George blowing through her hair. A moment, perfect and right, before they began to move from each other.   
  
_

_Tuvok hunched over a chess board, deep in thought as he contemplated his next move.  A paragon of logic, her anchor, gazing at her with dark, affectionate eyes even with his Vulcan control._

_Large arms restraining her in a cold, murky ocean. Harry Kim's hand on hers, the awareness suddenly come and all too quickly gone between them, a possibility never realized.   
  
Kathryn Janeway, standing proud on the bridge of her ship, a thrill of fear and anticipation trembling up her spine as she ordered Lieutenant Paris to set a course for home through an alien land._   
  
Kathryn Janeway was invincible. She could defeat the Volkari. She could defeat the Borg Queen. She could defeat pain and fear. She could defeat that voice of conscience, and by God, she could now defeat the Delta Quadrant. She'd defeat time itself, if she had to. All that could hurt her now were the shadows of a universe already past.   
  
The Starship Voyager forged on, plunging endlessly through the Delta Quadrant night. 

THE END 


End file.
